I saw youand the way your lipspicked themselves upand parted into a smilethat set my heart ablaze

I saw youand the way your mouth danced when you roared with laughter;your laugh a ferocious lyric,an angelic melody,my favourite song

I saw you and the way your eyes lost themselves in minecopper waves twirling atophazel oceans

I saw youand the way your fingers swam through the chocolate strands of your hair,drowning in a sea of dreadlocksthat kept wild the wavy tides

And this small motionof ruffling your hairwould always cast upon me a spell;I'd freeze,disabled,as if from a fableunable to avert my eyes,drinking in the sight of you

And remember when our skins first met?When the privilege to swim through your manewas handed to my fingers?When the taste of your watermelon gumlingered on my lips?When you wiped my tears and asked,“Is this how an angel cries?”I saw youI saw all of youbut little did I knowthat what I was looking at this entire timewas just a meredisguise

﻿It's anight for poetryalthough no poem is coming to mindwriting absolutely nothing in particular can be as dangerousas allowing your cab driver to be blind

I've gotthis blank sheet of paperpleading to be turned into artto absorb those luscious wordsand transform emotions into oceans of melodic versesso why can't I get this damn poem to start?And my goodness,just lookat the way my hand is itchingto tattoo the whites of these pagesThe poetry running throughmy fingers ceases to quiet downroaring at the pen itself to release the flocks of wordsfrom within their cagesAlas there goesmy stream of thoughtsletters being given birth by ink so undeniably bluerushing to stain every inchof pages untouchedbut still, what exactly is the poem about?I've honestly nota singleclue.﻿

She is alone,silent,for now.But she is there,floatingthrough the deepest wounds,through unconscious memoriesBut she is there,drowning you,in ferocious wavesof emotionscontinuously crashing,and smashing,and thrashing,at your heart.And even the slightestflickerof sentimentcan set her off.Like the burning ofskinwhen the slithering flamefrom the spitting firelicks your armis her wrathwhen, if, aroused.She is anger and temper,she is love and lipstick stains,she is blood,she is the most loudest silence,she is alone,she is red.